Use common sense. If you're under 18 or if you're somewhere where this is not allowed, then leave. This story contains underage boys who may engage in sexual activity. If this offends you, you ought not to be here. Leave. You know the drill. You get the picture. This is my very first submission ever and one of my first erotic stories. Email me with thoughts! j.grayson@rocketmail.com Sincerely, Joshua Grayson.
Lovestruck
Part 1
"I saw an angel. Of that I'm sure." -James Blunt
It was a Friday afternoon when, by chance, I first laid eyes upon the most marvelous boy I would ever know.
I was seventeen years old and I should have been at school that day. My mother always left for work before time for me to drive to school. She had tried to wake me, I had assured her I was awake, then I had fallen back to sleep for hours.
I finally awoke a little after noon. Why was I at home? Shoot! I had overslept. I knew my mother and sister were both gone, but my mom's friend would be downstairs. She was staying with us for the weekend, so she and my mother could have a joint garage sale.
I went downstairs and walked into the open garage, which was decorated with tables filled with different items of varying worth, all of it for sale.
Her friend, Reba, looked at me, "Well, finally some help! I was wondering when you'd be awake."
I laughed, "I'm sorry. I would have been down HERE sooner, if I'd been conscious of the fact that I was up THERE."
"It's fine," she laughed, "pull up a chair."
I did so, somewhat reluctantly. I didn't know Reba well, and even if I had, how much good conversation could I enjoy with a gabby old woman?
Time passed slowly. I would play BrickBreaker on my phone as often as I could without seeming rude. Customers came and went, all commenting on how beautiful a day it was. It was indeed. The sun shone brightly down, in such a way that I was enjoying watching it from inside the shaded garage. The grass was in need of being cut, but it made it look more like a field, blowing in the breezes of spring.
None of the customers particularly stood out to me. They were just shoppers out looking to buy things we didn't want and that they probably didn't need.
Then, in the utter stagnation of the repetitive day, something caught my interest. Pulling into my driveway were a boy and his father. I had never seen either of them before.
They both got out of their vehicle and upon first sight I immediately felt a strong attraction to this young stranger. I believe it would be appropriate to say his presence, his being, had "struck" me. It was lust at first sight, no doubt, but I almost want to say it was love. I felt a sexual longing for this boy, but also something deeper.
He was probably between the ages of twelve and fourteen. He had a dark brown hair, cut somewhat short in a style that looked like it was meant to be a bit longer. It was almost a skater haircut, but a bit too short. His face was perfect, with almost impossibly beautiful dimensions. His skin color was a bit tan, but not too dark. He looked radiant.
There was something about him, something in his demeanor and his attitude, which seemed to shine the fact that he was a gentle soul. He walked into the garage and his dad looked around. I realized that I hadn't taken my eyes off of him since he had stepped out of the car. I looked away.
I knew that my eyes and my facial features were probably betraying me. I had always had a particular look upon my face whenever I wanted something to an extraordinary degree. It screamed of longing, lust, and desire. It was a look that said, "I can't believe anything like this exists. It's amazing. It's perfect. I must have it."
He hadn't yet said a single word and I could barely stop myself from exploding as I desired to hear his voice. He simply stood there, with his hip projected to the right, just a little. Not so much that it looked odd, but just a slight quirk in the way he stood. It made him look more feminine.
He looked around and saw a small painting sitting there. It was one of an owl painted onto a black cloth. The owl looked very beautiful, but something about the colors had made me suspect that a girl would buy it. He picked it up with a smile and brought it to his dad.
"I like this," he said, sweetly, innocently, in a way that meant, "Can I have it?"
His dad said, "It's neat."
I was staring again. I knew it. He looked up at me, caught my eye.
I smiled at him. What was I doing?! Surely my smile was suggestive in itself. I had never been so out of control of my emotions before. My smile was not just in my lips, but in my eyes. It was a smile that you do not give a stranger. It was a smile that lovers give to one another when they are finished making love.
I felt so ashamed, so embarrassed. However, this all took place in a split second, because immediately, he smiled back at me. His smile was slightly more innocent. It lacked a good deal of the sexual message that mine had carried, but it was not lacking in love.
His smile was perfect. Utterly perfect. In his smile, on his face, I saw beauty embodied. The sunlight on the grass, the waters of the ocean, and the wonders of the stars, all paled in comparison to this one miniscule little boy smiling back at me.
It had seemed like hours since I first caught his eye, smiled at him, and watched him smile back at me with the intensity of a thousand suns. However it seemed, it had only been a few seconds. His dad seemed not to notice our almost intimate exchange.
He said, "Would you like to have it?"
The boy nodded, "I want to put it in my room." He looked back down at it. He really saw beauty there. He really appreciated the beauty that he saw. I had seen beauty in it, but not recognized it the way he did. He loved this rather imperfect, cheaply made painting of a colorful owl on black felt. He thought it was beautiful.
His dad looked toward Reba and myself. I was still staring at the boy. I wondered if his dad could read me. I prayed that he could not.
As he exchanged money with Reba, she mentioned she was from out of town. He acknowledge this and said, to my unbelieving ears, "We live in this neighborhood, just a street over."
My heart literally fluttered. I felt it; it worried me for a moment, and then subsided. This angel...this epitome of radiant beauty...this embodiment of pure gentleness and innocence...lived just one street over. In a flurry of confusion worse than I had already been experiencing, I felt my mind scramble. I was lost. No train of thought tracked through my mind. I was floating. I was feeling...ethereal. I was nothing but pure emotion. Joy, hope, optimism, love, passion, lust, and more, all together at once.
I have no idea how long this lasted, but I remember my first conscious thought when I came down, "Oh my God, I hope no one is looking at me, I must look lovestruck."
And lovestruck I was.
They finished their conversation, got into their automobile, and drove away. I sat there...completely motionless. I was still experiencing the aftereffect of my high of love. I knew however that I had to make myself seem bored again, so Reba wouldn't suspect my secret.
I thought my brush with this angel was a singular event. Though he lived just down the road, though I was already fantasizing about what COULD happen, I had a good feeling I'd never even see him again.
I went inside later and I wrote an eroticized version of our encounter. In it, he had come back an hour later and we had snuck off together and talked, and done other more exciting things. I uploaded it to my favorite erotic literature site and went on. I had experienced a moment with the most beautiful boy on earth and it was done with. I thought that by writing my fantasies out and sharing them online, I could move on. I tried strongly to forget.
Imagine my surprise when I was out checking the mail a week later and he stepped out from behind a tree.
"Hey there, kid. What're you doing here?" I said, trying to act natural.
"Just out for a walk," he said. "It's one of my hobbies. Is writing one of yours?"
My heart went from zero to eighty in a second.
To be continued...
To Readers: I hope you've enjoyed it so far. To those who were expecting and waiting on a quick sex scene, I apologize. While there is definitely quite a bit of that in store for the next nstallments, I wanted to express the background of their first meeting and the deep emotional bond there. Email me and let me know your thoughts or suggestions for the future of these two kids and what you thought of this first installment. Thanks for reading! I hope to hear from you.
Email: j.grayson@rocketmail.com